1. Red drawer
Sophia Loren’s breasts netted behind wet cotton. Klaus Kinski’s Dracula and the raw lust of unglamour. The inflamed joints where my spine becomes skull. When I watch the late news, I feel impotent. The tide of my blood still rushes forward when I call you.2. Orange drawer
Fruit peel left on the table top: a hollow planet collapsing inwards. We danced the merengue to the radio on the lawn. Mustard seeds popped between my teeth. We made cordial on Sundays, jug too big for me to hold. I’ve seen too many sunrises from the wrong end lately.3. Yellow drawer
Children unwrap presents on Christmas morning; the older ones try not to tear paper beliefs. I hear they trucked the beach into the city grain by grain. You washed my body with a new bar of Sunlight. The cat licks up yolk splattered on the floor.4. Green drawer
Memories of home: Koro Kahikatea, strong and moss-bearded. A low voice sings cicada songs while I sleep. My right hand writes; my left hand holds the book so that I may write. I used to think that broccoli were tiny trees.5. Blue drawer
Half-moon wavers above the swimming pool. The pool swallows the moon. A grey cat sometimes mews at our laundry door. I’m sewing a mixtape called ‘Raincoat’ for my early-morning downpours. I always feel for my pulse after you’ve hung up.6. Purple drawer
Incense smokes bad spirits out of the house, though I’m still allergic. My spectacles match my hair-colour; I imagine I have wings the same shade. There used to be violet and indigo, but I guess they forgot to separate them in the wash.If only i could write like this.
ellen, i feel the same way. im guessing savannah lent you my magazine then?
:) ah yes, good ole’ voiceworks
you know where to buy it, you do live in perigean!
No Zac Savannah has not yet lent me the book, i had a quick read through it in history the other day. And zac i do not live in perigian, i live in good ole’ Tewantin :)
